Assigned Bride [Unrequited Love]

12

The next morning, I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting my tie, my reflection staring back at me like a stranger. After that dream about Katherine, something inside me felt… off. It wasn’t like me to be thrown off balance by something as trivial as a dream. I’m not a man easily affected— I'm steady, controlled. But that dream? It lingered, like smoke in a closed room. 

As I stepped into my office, my steps faltered for the briefest moment. The scene from my dream flashed vividly in my mind—her sitting in my chair, her dress, her smile. Damn it. 

Now my office, my sanctuary of discipline and focus, felt different. It didn’t feel like my usual workspace. It felt... charged. As if something forbidden had happened here. The memory of her from my dream didn’t repulse me; it did the opposite. My breath quickened for a second, and I felt my pulse hammering in my ears. 

Shaking my head, I strode toward my chair, forcing myself to sit down, gripping the armrests as though that could ground me. *Get a grip, Francesco,* I thought. I was behaving like a teenager after his first wet dream; okay, maybe this dream was extra spicy.

Sighting, I turned to my laptop, determined to bury myself at work. But the words on the screen blurred, my thoughts drifting back to her. *What the hell is wrong with me?* 

A knock on the door startled me. The usual sound, something I’d become accustomed to over the years, felt different now—sharp, intrusive, like a reminder. 

Clearing my throat, I called out, “Come in.” 

And there she was. 

The girl of my wet dream. As Katherine stepped into the room, dressed exactly as she had for the past four years. A maroon satin blouse tucked neatly into a pencil skirt that hugged her hips with just enough precision to drive me insane today. Her hair was pinned back, sleek and professional, her heels clicking softly against the floor. 

But damn it, something was different. Or maybe I was different. 

Her shirt looked softer today, the satin catching the light as if it was deliberately tempting me. The way her skirt clung to her figure seemed more noticeable, more… deliberate. She walked with the same composure and the same purpose, but I found myself watching her every move as if seeing her for the first time. 

She approached my desk, holding a folder in one hand and my coffee in another, her eyes meeting mine with the same confidence they always did. But for the first time, I felt exposed under her gaze. *Did she know? Could she tell?* 

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to remain steady. “Good morning, Katherine,” I said, nodding toward the chair across from me. 

“Good morning, Sir,” she replied, her tone calm and professional. Completely unaware of the chaos she’d ignited inside me. 

Giving me my coffee, she sat down, I found my eyes lingering on her hands—delicate, yet capable. The way her fingers brushed the edge of the folder sent a ripple of heat through me, reminding me just how those sinful fingers had brushed on my tie and I had to look away. 

My grip tightened on the desk. This was ridiculous. She was the same Katherine I’d worked with for years, yet today, she felt like an entirely different woman. 

Had she always looked like this? Had I always ignored the subtle allure in the way she carried herself? Or was it just me, haunted by the dream that refused to let me go? 

“Is everything alright sir?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, her brow furrowing in that concerned way of hers. 

I cleared my throat again, sitting up straighter. “Of course,” I replied, too quickly, too curtly.